


Neither can Lose

by frustratedFreeboota



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: F/M, Gunplay, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-07-28 18:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16247771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frustratedFreeboota/pseuds/frustratedFreeboota
Summary: Jack can arguably survive against Contessa.





	1. Chapter 1

In the same moment that the portal opened, Jacob ducked. There was a penny on the floor, and while he hadn't exactly ever used money per se, it did look rather shiny. The hurled dagger passed through the space the back of his neck had briefly occupied. Jacob was standing back up again as the first bullet was fired. A glint of light from the dagger in his hand had forced Fortuna to tilt her head just so, the brim of her hat preventing the light from reaching her eye and distracting her. The first shot removed the knife from Jacob's hand. The second shot came in the second that her hand had been shaken by the first shot, the kick of the revolver forcing the gun up just enough that the shot removed the belt from Jacob's trousers, dragging the knife that he was reaching for just out of reach of his free hand.

"Hey," Jacob said, as leather and levi pooled about his boots. He wouldn't be walking anytime soon. He raised his hands above his head, a look of defeat on the face of the most evil man in America.

Another bullet to end this.

Jacob sank to his knees, belt and trousers still about his ankles.

One more bullet.

He started to waddle towards her, hands still far from any weapon. She could have killed him in an instant. 

One more perfect squeeze of the trigger.

Jacob wrapped his mouth about the barrel of the gun, locking eyes with Fortuna as he did. Gently, his lips started to clean the residue from the tip. The knife enthusiast's number obsessed former teammate had warned her of how canny he truly was, but he'd never mentioned just how pathetic Jacob really was.

999 999 999

"The Slaughterhouse 9 are no longer a concern." Fortuna declared, stepping through the door she had requested. "Their presence is beneficial to our current path."

"I see," the Number Man intoned, with nary a glance in her direction. "And where are your pants?"

"Where are YOUR pants?" Fortuna replied. The Number Man said nothing, continuing to feign interest in his Dali artwork.


	2. "Too Advanced"

I need to kill Jack Slash without being distracted by *his actorish looks, sad and pathetic as she forced him to service the very instrument of his death...*

I need to kill Jack Slash. No sooner than she had finished thinking it, the steps in her path were known to her.

"Door to Jack Slash."

Within a single step she was behind the man. She remained on her side of the doorway, a countermeasure for the parahuman that Jack knelt before, a monstrous cape that threatened to fill the room. She re-clarified her path, adding the witness to the list of victims. Just as her power had registered no threat from the monstrous cape, nor did it offer any way of killing it available to her in this moment. She would have to deal with it at a later date.

The monster grunted, but not in recognition of her. A rhythmic sound, in time with a slight bobbing of Jack's head.

"Stand. Hands up." Contessa stated. He was kneeling just so, the angle of his spine such that her bullet would fail to penetrate the changes his pet tinker had wrought to his skull. A slight change of entry would be sufficient for her purposes.

"Sorry Ned." Jack whispered. As Contessa bade, he stood up, placing his hands carefully behind his head. His fingers had been stained with a vivid orange, one that trickled down his hands.

He made a single step to the left, and Contessa's gun followed his head, ready to make the shot. Her eyes lingered on the thing that Jack had been crouched before. 

On another Earth, a long time ago now, Fortuna had met a god in the throes of its birth. Thousands of hands reaching out, clawing their way out in fractals and untold parallels. A woman's face at the centre of it all. The horror of that creature had been nothing compared to the apendage that lay blossoming before her. A tip similar to a fleur de lis rose from between glowing veins, sprouting from a black slit that ran the length of the monstrous cape's groin.

There was a great shudder, and a trickle became a fountain.

999 999 999

"Did you manage to kill him?" the Number Man asked, his calves and the edge of his thighs open to the elements, his standing desk successfully hiding his preposterously sized prime number.

Contessa's clothes dripped onto the floor of his office. Her hand moved just so, a precise motion such that a droplet landed on the rim of the Number Man's glasses. "His tactics were too advanced."


	3. Chapter 3

"Something wrong?" the Number Man intoned, feigning interest in his computer screen. He'd already finished fiddling with the economy for the day, and had moved on to fiddling with Gabriel Maxberry's autopsy report. The protectorate's records on King had steadily been shrinking over the years.

Contessa merely sighed. A hand gestured to her undergarments, or possibly to a set of thighs that, when combined with the hand's gesture, formed a subtle golden ratio of skin. Or perhaps she had finally learned the truth about trousers.

"Ah." the Number Man said. "Fashion. Glad to see you've finally cottoned on."

"No." Contessa replied.

"Then I take it you won against Jack again?"

"My power is to win."

"Yes." The Number Man stated. "He's still alive, isn't he?"

Contessa's eyes narrowed.

"This ends today." The Number Man stood from behind his desk, his prime number proudly dangling out from underneath his shirt. "You're going back, and I'm coming with you."

She nodded, no doubt already aware of his plan.

"Stay there." he said. Contessa stayed.

The Number Man slid his Jesus snuff art aside, revealing the slightly smaller picture of Salvador Dali in a bra that he kept hidden underneath it in the event that someone thought he was hiding a safe underneath it. He moved Corpus Salvadorus Brassiericus aside, and typed in the nine digit code that protected his most treasured possession. He smiled. If anyone was trying to get into this safe, it'd be the last code they'd ever try.

The door swung open, revealing two pairs of freshly pressed business casual trousers. With extra stitching.

"Put these on."

999 999 999

"That could have gone better," the Number Man said, stepping back into his office. He pressed his glasses back against the bridge of his nose in an attempt to fix their crooked angle. They slid back down again as soon as his hand was clear of his face.

"Yeet." Contessa said, following behind, her legs wobbly, her gait straight.

"I think I have your shirt on." the Number Man said, examining the impression of his nipples in the fabric. 

"I think I have Jack's shirt on." Contessa said, examining a minute speck of red on one of her shirt's buttons.

"And I am *loving* this bra." Jack said. "I think you're my size."


End file.
